


Stir up

by RogueLioness



Series: Fuckuary 2021 [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, NSFW, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:35:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29846448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueLioness/pseuds/RogueLioness
Summary: Day 3: Thalia Lavellan x SolasKitchen sex/food play
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas, Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age)
Series: Fuckuary 2021 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2194248
Kudos: 2





	Stir up

Thalia loves the kitchen in Solas’ home. It is, she thinks, a pity that a man with such a magnificent setup - marble countertops, large island, shiny stainless steel appliances - does not utilize it to its fullest potential. Oh, Solas knows how to cook - he makes the fluffiest omelettes she’s ever had. and he can grill a steak to perfection - but that oven of his? Underappreciated.

Fortunate for him, then, that he has her.

The cupcakes are cooling on a rack in the corner, the scent of chocolate and vanilla filling the air and making her stomach rumble. The mixer in front of her is working its magic, whipping butter and confectioners sugar - and cocoa powder, french roast instant coffee, and vanilla - to make mocha icing, one of her favorites. She adds a spoonful more of the coffee extract, watches it mix into the rest of the ingredients, then turns her attention to the window. It’s a glorious summer day, the sun bright and gleaming in an endless cobalt sky. It calls to her, and she wonders if she can drag Solas away from whatever he’s doing to take a walk outside. It will do them both good to let the warmth of sunshine seep into their skin, and perhaps she could even steal a kiss under the orange trees.

“What are you doing?” a beloved voice pulls her attention. Thalia turns to find Solas walking towards her, linen slacks only lightly rumpled, collared t-shirt showing that deceptively lithe frame, the one that she knows so well. _He is so handsome_ , she thinks, not for the first time, not for the last.

She smiles at him, raises a spatula. “Making some icing.” She scrapes some off the utensil with her finger. “Wanna taste?”

He chuckles and approaches her, and she holds out the finger for him, but before he can draw the digit into his mouth she quickly - cheekily - pulls it between her own lips, cheeks hollowing, a soft _pop_ as it comes free of her mouth.

Solas' eyes darken. The smile on his face turns into a smirk. A thick, syrupy coil of heat unfurls in the pit of her stomach. “Is that the game you wish to play?” he murmurs, stepping closer, forcing Thalia to move, until her back hits the counter and she’s surrounded entirely by him. She lets him guide her to sit up on the counter, allows him to move between her legs.

“Game?” she asks mock-innocently. “I was only offering you a taste.”

He leans in, his lips a half-inch from hers. She can smell the mint on his breath, feel the heat wafting off him in buffets, warming the bare skin of her legs, pricking the softest parts of her. “And I intend to have it, _vhenan._ ” He kisses her then, a bare brush of lip-against-lip, and he evades her touch when she tries to hold him so she can deepen it. His tongue runs between the seam of her lips and she responds instantly, opening up so he can take what he wants- and he does, but it is still soft, a delicate exploration of her mouth, and it is _infuriating_ because she wants _more_. Thalia moans, the sound more a demand than a plea, and hooks an ankle around his calf to keep him in place.

His hands slide into her hair, framing her face as he deepens the kiss. He steals the breath from her lungs, but she doesn’t care, wraps her arms around his neck and willingly offers all she has. Solas groans, the sound vibrating through her, inciting her blood to flashfire, makes her core swollen and wet. Her head lolls back, boneless, as he turns the attention of his mouth to her jaw, his tongue darting out at intervals to taste her skin. She feels herself tense, forces herself to relax, then tenses again when he takes the tip of a bladed ear between his soft lips and sucks.

“ _Solas_ ,” his name is a gasped prayer and curse all in one. She can feel his lips pull up into another smirk.

“I’m not done,” how is his voice so even? It feels unfair.

One hand fists in her hair, tugs gentle at the roots. It makes Thalia hiss in pleasure, eyes falling shut. There’s a clatter to the side of her, one she doesn’t pay attention to, and then - she jerks as something is smeared down her throat and across her clavicle, twisting in Solas’ hold to see what he’s doing, but he holds her firm. “You offered me a taste, _ma lath_ , and I intend to savor it my way,” his voice is deeper now, rougher, and she grins at the ceiling, stilling obediently so he can have his way with her.

Then his mouth comes into play, and every thought in her mind scatters. It is almost a kind of art - the press of satin lips against skin, warm breath against her throat. The stroke of his tongue as he gathers up the icing from where it lies, the soft hum he makes running down her spine, turning her core molten. Then teeth, first a light graze, then a gentle nip, then harder, enough to leave a mark in its wake, like garnet embedded into her skin. 

It is nearly too much, the flood of sensation. Thalia’s whines turn into a gasp when he shifts his thigh between her legs, and her core meets the broad plane of linen-covered skin. She tries to grind against it, to gain some friction that will soothe her, but his hand splays across her abdomen and forces her to still. She does, not silently, though - she mewls at him, her face heating up when he looks at her and huffs a soft laugh. 

“Are you done?” she grumbles after a few seconds of nothing. She can’t meet his face, embarrassment causing the tips of her ears to flush.

He lifts her chin up with two fingers and a gentle force, and something in Thalia relaxes at the warm affection in his eyes. “I was not laughing at you, _vhenan_ ,” he says softly, his gaze examining her face, “but at myself, at how easily you affect me.” He takes her hand and guides it to his cock, and she’s gratified - and smug - to find him hard. She runs a finger up his length, biting down on her lip when he goes slack-jawed, then repeats the action with the palm of her hand, once, twice-

Solas snarls. “ _Sildel’asha_ ,” he grasps her wrist, places a kiss on the center of her palm before letting it drop. There’s a dull _thwack_ as it hits her thigh. He’s still looking at her as he grips the hem of her tank top, a question in his eyes.

“Yes,” she breathes out, and helps him take it off. It’s barely over her head when his hands are on her breasts, taking the weight of them, thumbs stroking the sides through the cotton of her bra. He gently angles her back, till she’s leaning on her elbows, the countertop chilling her skin; then he dips his head, and licks her nipple through the cloth. It makes her squirm, which makes her core grind against his thigh, which makes her cry out, which makes him lick her again, and it goes on and on till she’s nearly weeping with frustration. Solas pulls down the garment, the cups gathered beneath her breasts, stares down appraisingly at them, then lifts his gaze to her. His eyes are dark, hooded, filled with desire, and it makes her shudder.

Then, eyes still on her, he shifts. Thalia’s tongue darts out to wet her lips in anticipation. Every second feels like an hour, her skin is prickling with heat, her heart is hammering beneath her ribs- Solas’ finger holds a large chunk of the coffee-colored icing. He grins down at her, the smile sly and wicked, and daubs the cream over one pert nipple, then the other.

Thalia’s breath catches in her throat. Her head tilts back, exposing the length of her neck, making her look like a debauched offering to a sinful god. There’s nothing in her mind but pleasure, heavy, dense, filling every inch of every nerve as he circles his tongue around the taut bud, over and over, light, slow, then with increasing pressure, a hand stroking the skin of her inner thigh even as it keeps her from rutting against him. She can’t think of anything but the way he’s sucking at her, the soft, so soft scrape of teeth - then his fingers brush against her core and she cries out, the sound catching in her throat and spilling out as a rasp from her parted lips.

“Solas, please,” she’s so empty, she needs to be filled, she needs _him_ , “ _please_.”

His fingers are still teasing her breasts, rolling her nipples between them, twisting them gently in the way he knows she likes. “What do you want, _vhenan_?”

“ _In_ me,” she moans, half-delirious.

There’s the soft rustle of cloth being moved, and she shivers as air hits the skin that was hidden beneath her skirt. Thalia whimpers as Solas shifts the crotch of her underwear to the side. “So wet,” he murmurs, wonder in his tone. “Is this what you want?” he asks, voice soft but devilish as he slides two fingers into her passage, thumb coated in slick circling her clit. Thalia clenches around him, so desperate she can’t even take pleasure in the hissed curse that falls from him.

“ _Ma lath,”_ she begs. “ _Please_.”

“Please what?” he pumps his fingers in and out in a languid, almost lazy way, letting the pads of his fingers stroke her walls. She grows wetter, her core swollen with aching desire, slick coating her folds and the inside of her thighs.

“Stop teasing and _fuck_ me, dammit!” Thalia wails, arching her hips, trying to draw his fingers deeper, frustrated but desperate, her skin feeling like it’s two sizes too small for her body.

Solas chuckles. It feels like a kind of sin, filled with every dark promise ever made, makes her walls clench around the sound. There’s the soft jingle of a belt unbuckled, the soft _viiip_ of a zipper being undone, and his hands are pulling her panties down. She thinks she hears them fall to the ground, but her attention is on the thick, hard cock with the angry red tip, the one that has her tensing with gleeful anticipation. Thalia licks her lips, and looks up at Solas. His eyes are almost all-black, the barest ring of silver noticeable.

His palms are hot and heavy on her hip. She moans as he rubs himself along her dripping slit, desperately waiting for him to fill her the way she wants - the way she _needs_ \- she cants her hips up, whimpers, and then-

He’s in, the motion slow, steady, fluid. The familiar stretch of her walls as they accommodate him drives the breath from her throat, has her gasping for air. She calls out his name, and he stills inside her, his eyes anxiously examining her for discomfort.

She rolls her hips against his, wanting more, and he starts to move - short, shallow thrusts that feel good, but they aren’t what she wants. Solas’ hand reaches up to cup her jaw, drawing her attention to him, and he smiles down at her, soft, fond, before kissing her gently. His other hand goes to her thigh, raising it to find a better angle - and he does, his next thrust hitting her sweet spot, making her keen into his mouth.

“More,” she pleads, arching against him, “harder, Solas, please-” 

He obeys, the motion of his hips harsh, but addictive, and it coaxes the lewdest sounds from her throat. His hand moves down to where they’re joined, fingers stroking her clit in a pace to match his thrusts, molten liquid pleasure bursting along her nerves, euphoria roiling out from her core, making every muscle, every sinew, contract with the elated expectation- Thalia opens suddenly heavy eyes to look at Solas, the pink flush to his skin, jaw clenched with his pleasure, the tendons of his neck jutting out in stark relief - and his eyes are filled with love, and the sight of it, focused entirely and intensely on _her_ , sets off her climax, and she falls to the sound of her name on his lips, his hips stuttering against hers as he finds his own peak, the warmth of his spend adding to the flood of ecstasy that she willingly drowns in, letting it slam over her and into her till she washes up on the shores utterly drained, but completely fulfilled. Thalia can’t seem to remember how to breathe - it takes her a few minutes to catch her breath, all the while aware of the whirring of the mixer next to them.

“So,” she asks, still breathless, “what do you think?”

His eyes twinkle with mischief. “The icing, or you?”

Thalia snorts. “The icing-” she turns to look at the mixture, shrieking with dismay at the now thin, soupy-looking buttercream. “My icing!”

Solas leans in, presses a kiss to her cheek. “I’ll help you make more,” he promises.

“You’re lucky I love you so much,” she mutters.

He laughs. “That I am, _vhenan_ , that I am.”


End file.
